


Kindred Instruments

by Neffectual



Series: 104 Reasons to Stay Alive [22]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Angst, F/M, Female Hange Zoë, Friendship, M/M, Miscarriage, Past Lives, Period-Typical Homophobia, Reincarnation, Sex Work, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-18
Updated: 2014-09-18
Packaged: 2018-02-17 21:52:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2324438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neffectual/pseuds/Neffectual
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Whilst Hanji has Mike, and Levi has Erwin, first and foremost, they have always had each other. Through every life, whilst they may have missed their lovers, they have always had a friend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kindred Instruments

**Author's Note:**

> For my children, each and every one of you. I just want to gather you all up and soothe every tiny hurt, but because I can't, I give you slivers of my soul, disguised as stories, and hope that is enough.

When Hanji takes her place with the rest of the recruits, it surprises her that Levi is nowhere to be seen; he has always been there, the one constant in life after life of change, how the world changes around them but they stay the same – she is twelve years old and she has never lived this long without him, not since the first time, never before had to be told she is a woman without him to laugh and stroke her hair when she cries. She wonders if, maybe, this is her last life, if Levi died before she could get to him, and it feels achingly like her fault and her penance all in one. One of the other recruits hears her crying in the night, and asks if she’s alright.  
“I’ve lost the other half of my soul.” she says, quietly, and the other girl backs away, unable to understand.

With Elizabeth on the throne, Levi takes to the stage, playing the slim young maiden to Erwin’s hero, kisses shared in front of entire audiences, and later on straw mattresses in the costume room, until Hanji tuts and demands the outfits back, leaving them when both are down to drawers, and pretending she cannot hear the noises. Mike writes the plays, and whilst he may not be Shakespeare, he can give the old pontificator a run for his money, and so Hanji gets to work in the theatre, stitching and embroidering each piece of stage clothing, down to the shoes, and the actors treat her like a real lady, which she loves. The only two who give her no respect are Levi and Erwin, who ruin her hard work by tearing seams and ripping fastenings free, giving her a basket of soiled clothing she must take back to her lodgings to mend and clean, and yet, the other actors whisper, she loves those two scamps most of all.  
“Ruin a codpiece and you’ll owe me money.” she says to Levi as she hands clothes back, and he rolls his eyes as Erwin waggles his eyebrows roguishly. It shouldn’t be quite so attractive, Hanji thinks, knowing that the two of them are childish imps, and drive her to drink, but when she’s lying next to Mike at night, pulled in close to his broad chest, she remembers the days before life was this simple, remembers a time when titans roamed the streets, and her hands shook as Levi’s held her steady, as Mike died and Erwin lost the arm, and how they all fell apart. As it is, with a woman on the throne, Hanji feels she has more agency now; Erwin and Levi can walk the streets arm in arm and none try to knife them in the tavern, save for Kit Marlowe when he’s had a skinful, but that is not unusual. He’s a knife cove, but so is Levi, and Levi has another hundred lifetimes of experience, and with Erwin to back him up, Mike sits safely and enjoys his ale whilst Hanji drinks cider and watches her boys fight. Levi is deadly, blades inches from skin, and Erwin is all show, broad shoulders and a cocky grin ensuring that those who do get close do not expect him to be as good with a cosh as he is. Hanji herself keeps knives on her person, but she finds it odd that she feels safer here than she has in previous lives, where she did not feel threatened by the rest of humanity. Perhaps she is learning.  
“The world is but a stage.” Mike says, flourishing a quill, and Levi kicks him in the ankle.  
“Will said that last week, you’re not fooling anybody.” he opines, and Erwin orders another round, but keeps himself sober, and Hanji watches as Levi is led, giggling drunkenly, out to the privy, where Erwin will go to his knees in partial privacy, and Levi will scold him for it in the morning, his hands flailing as he tries to keep his face stern, saying never again. The next night, he will once again allow himself to drink enough that Erwin can take him anywhere he wants, and passers-by will ignore that they share lodgings, that their stage kisses are passionate and never stilted, and that sometimes, their hands linger a little too long. Hanji and Mike are married, and though childless, Hanji will always say that Levi and Erwin are the only children they need, and more than enough to take care of and keep them busy. Their life expectancy is short, but Hanji thinks she’ll probably remember this as one of the best lives that they have ever had all together.

The words pass when they’re all sat together, as Hanji makes an obscure hand gesture, which makes Levi giggle into his drink. Mike grins at the two of them, whilst Erwin looks thoughtful.  
“The way you two get on,” he says, smiling, “It’s almost like you’ve met before.

The first time they meet each other, England is still teeming with Celts, and Hanji spends her time as herbalist, keeping the women from being overrun with babies they cannot feed, and keeping the men from falling asleep on their lovers, and when Levi comes to her to talk about the way he looks at men, she asks why he did not go to the druid, or one of the other men. He smiles, shyly, and he looks so young, in a way he never will again.  
“I don’t trust them.” he says, quietly, and blushes, pink colouring his cheeks, “But I trust you.”  
Hanji takes this for the compliment it is, and wastes no time in naming a few of the other men who are so inclined, watching the shame pour from his face as interest takes hold, and he learns that a number of the couples who share lodgings are more than simply warriors who prefer the company of people who do not expect them to wash off all the blood before coming to bed. There are those without wives out of choice, and before too long, Levi is holding his head up, meeting her eyes as he tugs at his hair, long and wild, untamed as yet, because he will not step into the warrior class for another few seasons, where he will wear the bowl cut with pride, short enough not to afford an enemy a hand-hold which could cause him pain. When it comes to advice, Hanji is not forthcoming, for reasons she says she will expand upon when Levi takes a lover, but she mentions the oil made from pines, and how it can be distilled until it is almost pure. She shows him the wineskins of oil she cultivates, and turns her back for just long enough to pretend that she does not see one of them vanish into Levi’s clothing, and she changes her work schedule in her head accordingly, knowing she will need to replace it. She does not know that he will be waiting for her later, when the night fills the camp and makes his fear more real, she does not know that they will lie platonically on straw held with rope, and that he will cry into her shoulder, and she will not know what to do. Their lives are entwined from this moment on, and they will never live another life alone, not ever.  
“It feels as if I were meant to meet you.” Levi says, in the dark, his tiny body taking up more space than should be possible on the narrow paliasse, and who is she to say otherwise? His hand is small in hers, little more than a scared boy needing something to cling to, and she is more than willing to be there, to parent and teach and be a shoulder to cry on. She does not stop his mistakes from being made, but watches carefully and ensures she is there to dry the tears afterwards, with mead and honey, and to remind him that the greatest heroes took their first faltering steps and fell, just like he does. She watches him grow into a fine man, strong and brave, and although his loneliness brings him to her bed each night, he is as a child to her, a sibling, and nothing ever passes between them. His bowl cut marks him as of the warrior class, and though he never grows out of his body, small and catlike, he is tense like a coiled spring, and has numerous kills to his name. Watching him return triumphant from battle, mouth stretched wide in triumph, Hanji knows she could not imagine her life without him. She does not know, yet, that she will never have to.

Levi is her bunkmate, her silent companion and her shadow, and Hanji likes to think he doesn’t scare the boys away, but the truth is, few of their recruit class interest her, being more interested in picking their noses, spitting, or wandering around with a hand firmly wedged in their underwear, with a look on their faces like they have just discovered the secrets of the universe. Levi is intelligent, articulate, and doesn’t scratch himself in public, which leaves a lot for the rest of them to live up to.  
“Prowling Neanderthals.” he says, as they watch the poor bastards fall time after time, “And we should know.”  
She smacks him gently on the arm, and he makes a tiny noise of sulky protest.  
“Don’t exaggerate,” she says, with a grin, “We’re not that old yet.”

Hanji is a scandal to her family, the lady who wanted to be more than simply a governess or a teacher, wanted to make history in laboratories, wanted to chase the impossible dream of achieving something which no man ever could, and she does it all with Levi on her arm, the ever-charming rake in cravats and spats, always keeping up with the latest fashions. She provides a convenient cover for when they visit Erwin, an Earl this time around, and she sits in the kitchens with Mike, Erwin’s butler, and plays cards or drinks until Levi and Erwin are done. Then she adjusts Levi’s collar for him, straightens his hair and makes him look a little more presentable and less ravished, to keep their dalliance a secret.  
“No one cared before.” Levi says, sulkily, as their hansom cab takes them back to Hanji’s apartments, where he will see her indoors, but never come up. It would be improper, and they all have too much to lose from being seen to be overly familiar, for all that they are known about town as a group of close-knit friends, Mike excluded due to class boundaries.  
“No, you simply did not care if anyone cared before.” Hanji says, and holds him close, allowing the darkness to be their shield against calls of indiscretion. She, too, hates this world where any touch is seem as impropriety, where she must wear stiff corsets and long skirts, where it is impossible to be a lady and a creator at the same time. Her patents go out under Levi’s name, and she gives him a cut, although he asks for nothing; it keeps him in polished shoes and opera tickets, where he and Erwin get a box, and can hold hands in the privacy of that space, and pretend there would not be outrage if they were to be seen. Hanji spends the evening un-chaperoned with Mike, the hated corsets off, and as he kisses her, she wonders if, next time, the world will be an easier place for them all. She wants a world where women are powerful, where it does not matter who you love or how, and where no one cares about the family into which you were born, only about what you do with your own life.  
“To think that society has become this.” Erwin will remark, when the four of them are seated in his parlour, the rest of the staff given the night off, “We were never so dishonest about pleasure before.”  
“We were dying before.” Levi will reply, dryly, and curl into his lover’s side on the loveseat, daring to take that comfort in the only company where it would not shock. Hanji lies with her head in Mike’s lap, letting him stroke her hair, and as their men talk politics, the two friends make drowsy eye contact, and smile. Life may not be what they want it to be, but as long as they are together, then anything is bearable.

When the officers announce that someone new is joining training, two weeks in and late, Hanji holds her breath, nails digging into her hands, and breathes a sigh of relief when it is Levi, flanked by two people she does not know. They make eye contact, and she nods, ever so slightly, and then looks up at Erwin’s face, stern and commanding, and wonders what it means that, in this life, he is the man who brought her the only friend who follows her across lifetimes.

The worst life she can remember was she and Levi worked as doxies, dockside meat for sale, and every pound of flesh was paid for in copper, never silver or gold. Levi seemed an easy target, but with his speed and rage, he rarely ended up as bruised as she was, rarely had cuts which took months to heal. One night, they are at their usual posts, when a fellow staggers along the quayside, dead drunk, and is then on Levi with a knife before Hanji can even scream. The man’s a naval soldier, she sees, recognising the uniform before she sees the face with the livid wound through the eye, and recalls Levi defending her from him, after he broke her wrist. She screams, high and wordless, fear and alarm, and then the man is pulled away from Levi – and it’s Erwin. The moment of recognition between them is instant, and then Erwin is pushing the drunk soldier into the water, and after a splash, nothing else is heard. Erwin is full of heartfelt worries, of sweet words for both of them – Mike back on the ship where he is keeping an eye on those not on leave tonight – but all Hanji can hear is the voice of a cultured, educated man, who knows nothing of how they are living. He knows nothing of the way she washes herself out in the desperate hope that no child will catch in her womb, how they both bleed each night and how the bruises around her throat have hardly time to fade before the next replace them. He cannot understand that whilst she hates the men who use them, they both despise the officers, who let the abuse go on under their noses, and aren’t above their own vile habits, which no one would agree to, no matter how much coin.  
“Go back to your boat.” she says, voice hoarse, and watches Erwin, whom she has known for a dozen lifetimes already, look at her with pity. She knows what she looks like, she knows that he can see in every aborted movement what has been done to her, and she resolves not to care, not to look and see pity, that ravenous beast which wounds her so. Levi’s face is safer, his tense expression, lips thin and tight as he takes a breath.  
“I think that might be best, Captain.” he says, quietly, full of resignation, “The lady doesn’t want your attentions.”  
“I wasn’t trying – ” Erwin starts, but Levi doesn’t let him finish the sentence.  
“I know. Next time.” he says, and whatever Erwin sees in his eyes is enough to make him walk away. Their ship never docks in that port again.

Erwin is rarely there, but whenever he is, Hanji spots eyes trained on Levi, and finds it difficult not to snarl or hiss her displeasure, reduced to animal sounds to keep his attention away.  
“I quite like it.” Levi says, one night, “The way he watches me. Like he can already feel my hands on his body.”  
Hanji waits for the night to come when Levi does not take his place in his bed, and though it is later than she thought it would be, it happens. When she sees him stagger in, close to dawn, she is still awake, tense and ready to do whatever Levi needs.  
“How was it.” she says, curious despite herself.  
“We just... talked.” Levi says, heart in his eyes, and Hanji thinks that maybe she’ll let this happen, after all.

The second war takes them all by surprise, and Hanji finds herself alone in a house which is too big and too lonely without her men, struggling to make ends meet, and waiting every day for the letter which will no doubt come, the letter which will mark this lifetime as over, for all intents and purposes. She makes terrible cakes, sugar too pricey a commodity, and throws half of them away when she realises that she can eat no more. Used to cooking for four, the kitchen feels empty and wrong, and some days, instead of eating, she simply pulls herself into Mike’s chair and cries into her hands for hours, letting her tears wash the table which sees no more crumbs and spilled wine. The swelling of her belly is ignored, unseen, and when she does notice, she almost wishes it away, almost considers a method with which to rid herself of a reminder of what she no longer has. She stays her hand, however; in all their lives, she has never been pregnant before, has never been a mother, and she does not know what it means that she is, now. Perhaps it means that Mike will never return from the war, perhaps this will be all that she has to remind herself of him, perhaps it will be the last life she has, and she will have to live it alone, her men gone and her heart broken, but her arms full of a child she has wanted for centuries.  
“Hush.” she whispers to the child, as yet unmoving, and strokes her hand over her stomach.  
When the letter comes, she screams out at the sky, tears at her hair and rips at her clothes, wretched and wounded, her men coming home to her at last.  
Erwin is first, one arm clumsily amputated, and she runs to him, clutches at his chest and holds him tightly, her heart pounding as his remaining arm wraps around her and he kisses her hair, and neither of them mentions that the other is trembling. Erwin turns out to make a wonderful house-husband as Hanji grows bigger, unable to do all of the tasks which are necessary.  
“They’ll be back.” Erwin says, quietly, but his eyes don’t look like he believes it, and Hanji has lived too many lives to have hope.  
Mike comes home second, on crutches, missing a leg, and she laughs and cries as he puts his hand on her swollen belly and strokes, before fixing her with a hard stare.  
“Did you go gallivanting around whilst I was gone?” he asks, playfully, and she smacks him on the arm, grinning, and scolds him for his impropriety, before kissing him fiercely, using her strength to hold him up.  
When the letter comes, Hanji can do nothing but stare, silently, before turning and walking into the house, shoving it in front of Erwin at the breakfast table, and then almost running into her room and locking the door behind her. She hears the scream of grief and pain, and Mike trying to open the door, but she does not move, instead lying on the bed, staring at the ceiling and wishing for death. She cannot get up and comfort Erwin, cannot let Mike hold them both, cannot manage to get up when the bleeding starts, and still does not let Mike into the room when she is losing the baby. Her whole world is shattered, and she no longer wishes to live.  
Levi is not coming home.

When Levi jostles as her shoulder in line, Hanji rolls her eyes at him, and risks the ire of their drill sergeant by turning to look at him.  
“What?” she hisses, and Levi jerks his head sideways, towards a man standing off to the side, his hair unkempt, and stubble showing through on a face where the eyes are too old for the body.  
“Who’s he?” Levi whispers, and Hanji shakes her head, she doesn’t know, but the man catches her movement, and meets her eye. He smiles, and winks, and then Erwin is in front of her, barking orders at her and making her eyes widen as she pulls them back to the front.  
“I know Mike is distracting, cadet, but we all have to get past attractive distractions.” he says, though he rakes his eyes over Levi as he says it, and Hanji wonders whether she’s really in trouble at all, “See him after we’ve run these drills. Both of you.”  
Hanji and Levi get told their places in squads are assured, and though Levi races out like his feet are on fire, Hanji lingers, smiles, and nods at Mike before she leaves. She wonders if she’ll get to see him again.

The strangest ones are when Levi is younger than her, like he is this time around. This time, Mike isn’t here, and she feels painfully lonely late at night, with no arm around her, and no hand to hold. She calls him her ‘little Levi’, and when they both feel the strain of being too old and too young all in one moment, she crawls into bed with him and cradles his smaller frame to hers, like they had in cadet bunks, for safety and companionship. Erwin is here in this lifetime, and of course there are times when she must give Levi up and send him to his lover, but he always returns to her – after all, they have been together far longer, and their bond is stronger and deeper than those they share with others, despite it being platonic, or perhaps because it is such. Hanji draws, and Levi studies, and they muddle along as best they can, with Erwin strangely distant in light of the bond they share, carrying on with his own life which only intersects with theirs, rather than being continuously involved, rather than his ever-present form as they are used to.  
“Do you ever wonder,” Levi says, late one night, when they’re further into a bottle of wine than is good for them, “Why you’re with him?”  
Hanji smiles and shakes her head.  
“Sometimes, when he’s not here. Sometimes I wonder why I don’t take another lover, just for one lifetime. But it would feel... dishonest.”  
“I wonder.” Levi says, voice quiet, and Hanji has never felt so distant, though he’s practically in her lap, “I wonder what I could be without him.”  
She knows that this is a temporary ache, one which tumbles from his lips when it has been too many days without the touch of Erwin’s hands branding marks into his skin, the way he becomes when his place is too empty and quiet, and the loneliness gets to him. She never sees him happier than when he’s tucked into Erwin’s side, burrowed in like a kitten seeking warmth, being treasured and loved in a way which makes her heart ache in this solitary lifetime. They bicker like they have been together forever, and she supposes they have, or close enough – when Mike is not here for a lifetime, she finds herself watching them, and their happiness makes her so very happy, and so very sad, all at the same time.  
“Lost.” Hanji says, with surety, brooking no argument, “Lost and drunk.”  
He laughs at that, and she admits to herself that he is painfully beautiful, even when his face is twisted in bitterness and insecurity, even when he looks at her like a lost little boy who needs to be reminded that he is loved. Maybe it’s the youth this time around, or maybe he always has these worries when deep in his cups, and has never voiced them before, but she pulls him into her arms and whispers placating truths into his ear until dawn, reminding him just how much he misses Erwin in the lives he has to travel without him. In the morning, they don’t talk about it, and Hanji kisses the top of his head before she leaves for work, smiling as he wriggles back down into the blankets. Maybe, she thinks, Mike isn’t here for her this lifetime because Levi needs every shred of love that she can give.

“What would we do without them?” Levi says to her, late one night, their heads close together as Mike and Erwin finish another long, dull meeting, “What if this is the last life we get?”  
Hanji bites her lip, and says nothing, just grips his hand tighter and lets his head rest on her shoulder. If this life, the one where they fight titans, and humanity’s future is in their hands, is the last they have....  
“If it is,” she says, at last, as they both stand to meet their lovers, “Then I’m just glad you were here.”  
He flashes a tiny smile at her, before reaching up to kiss Erwin, as Mike takes her in his arms, and she wonders how lucky they could get, to be this happy more than once.  
“What’s so funny?” Mike asks, looking at her as she smiles. There are a million things she could say, in this life or the next, but there’s a lump in her throat she can’t get past.  
“I love you.” she says, softly, and stretches on tiptoe to kiss him, “And it was worth waiting a thousand years to see your face.”

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Beekeeper by Dessa, and fic written to her Parts of Speech album.


End file.
